The life and times of a London tattooist.

Muswell Hillbillies.

Well here we are again, almost at the end of another year. I can usually tell when everyone starts thinking about Christmas because, as with a majority of public holidays and events throughout the calendar year, people have started to act perhaps more rowdily than usual. As I type this in my front room my ears are being assaulted by a two fold attack consisting of a discordant rendition of We wish you a Merry Christmas from the street outside, and a thumping, half muffled cacophony of perpetually looped Christmas songs from the restaurant below.

Merry Christmas Everybody by Slade is my Guantanamo song.

That being said I am actually rather fond of Christmas, as long as hunting, mud, open fires and ale are included I am happy.

I am very sad to be missing the Boxing Day hunt this year as I will be in Iceland. I will also miss my London friends over the festive season and as most of us will be out of town we decided to have a bit of a pre-Christmas gathering at the Clissold Arms in Muswell Hill.

Too early for paper hats?

It’s been a rather sleepy day at Flamin’ Eight with everybody keeping very quiet and getting their heads in work mode. We all seem to be winding down for the year which is nice. I did get to do a rather cute butterfly skull on a rather cute young lady, and the charming Freddy popped in to get a little scorpion added to his chest piece. I asked him what it was about and he said that it was for protecting from paranoia, which is fair enough I suppose.

I haven’t minded the winding down so much as it has afforded me a little time to work on my on (and on and on), going skull painting. Yes I know it’s a bit cheesy but I guess every tattooist has to have at least one skull painting, so I thought I’d get it out of the way.

Will I finnish it before the end of the year? I’m not sure.

More hand tattoo pictures! Kirstys’ fingers this time. All healed up.

The music has quietened down now Odin be praised. And the banshees in the street has slunk back to whatever hollow they emerged from.

In conclusion Christmas is pretty great, and I shall endeavour to remember that even though I may at some point find myself vomiting into the gutter as any gentleman would, despite the best effort of high street chain stores and half witted celebrities, there is more to this merry season than spending money (unless perhaps it is money spent on tattoos), and that the friends in our lives and the appreciation of the simpler things is what makes this season special, for me at least.